Bobaflex: Rock’n'Roll Saviors

I was born and raised in rock’n’roll. My father couldn’t remember any nursery rhymes, but he knew Kiss and Led Zeppelin lyrics, which he sang to me until I was old enough ride around with him and listen to them on his old cassette deck.

Since that time, I’ve seen many bands and many shows, from AC/DC to ZZ Top, and dozens of heavy hitters in between. I know solid, ass-kicking rock’n’roll when I hear it, and unfortunately nowadays I don’t hear it nearly as often as I’d like.

We live in an age when the radio stations are flooded with pussified watered-down “music” that thrives in the mediocre limbo between rock and pop. It has too much guitar and bass to be pop or hip-hop, but the limp-wristed lead singers and lame-ass lyrics keeps it from being true rock’n’roll.  (I won't call out any bands in particular, because I wouldn't want to seem cold, and I certainly wouldn't want to hinder anyone.)

Then there are bands like Bobaflex.

I’ve seen them numerous times, and they rock hard enough to go up against any other band I’ve ever heard.  I'd put them on the main stage at Ozzfest any day, and laugh when they rocked harder than the rest of the lineup.  Their lyrics make sense have meaning.  Their music finds that primal, instinctual, reptilian brain and strums your brainstem like a string on a bass guitar. Their songs make you want to scream, stomp, dance, fuck, fight, explode, and implode all at once.

These guys have their shit together, and they're the real deal. If you want to hear true all-American rock’n’roll, then pick a show, buy a ticket, and meet me in the mosh pit.

Shaun, Marti, Chris, Jerod, and Tommy: thanks for keeping rock alive and showing people what it's really about.  I'll see you at Bearfest, if not before.